Human Troubles
by lets-braid-sams-hair
Summary: Castiel has some trouble coping with what happened to the angels in heaven..
1. Before the Chaos

****CONTENT MAY BE TRIGGERING****

**THIS STORY CONTAINS MAJOR SELF HARM.**

Castiel looked at himself in the mirror, examining all the features he's never noticed before. Like how the dark circles under his eyes seem to show how blue his eyes really are, and how cracked and dry his lips have become. Leaning closer into the reflection, he squinted his eyes and saw how each individual hair of his beard was gradually growing longer and longer each day. He reached up with his fingers and rubbed his scruff. Underneath his nails were filled with dirt and grime, it was quite disgusting to him to be honest. His eyes trailed from his beard to his sideburns, to his dark brown hair. The light hit it just right to see some strands of light brown in the short mess of darkness. Spending a good 10 minutes noticing all the details of his vessel he's stuck in, he struggled to realize what he was really staring at. The fall of all the angels made him come to reality: he can no longer teleport anywhere at any given time, nor can he live forever, he's mortal now. What happened to Jimmy? He doesn't know. This is now his body, and he had no idea how to accept that.

He dropped his eyes to his reflection's eyes, and then down to the sink. Bringing his hand down on the right nob, he twisted it to full blast and squirted liquid soap in his hands. It was strange to him, it was like melted down pink gelatin. The faucet looked like it spilled out a little choppy river, filling the bathroom with a rushing noise. Rubbing his hands together, like he's seen Dean do with soap, he washed his hands under the water, trying to get the painted dirt out from between his nails. His eyes trailed back up to his face and he noticed way more features before. It was like looking at a piece of art, looking away, and looking back, noticing more elements in it. His eyes felt heavy, but they looked light and glossy. The water continued as he stood still. He had stopped moving his hands, he stopped washing them and he stared himself in the face.  
"What is this?" he muttered under his breath as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

His throat ached, right where his Adam's Apple lied. The cold water sent chills up his arms and down his back and up his neck. His quivering lips let out a wimper loud enough to be heard over the running faucet. Even the noise shocked him, without looking, he fumbled stop the water. He finally shut it off. All that could be heard was his deep breathing as his chest heaved up and down. Wild eyes stared back at him, his eyes turned red around the eyelids, as well as his cheeks. It felt like he was trying to force a rock down his throat each time he swallowed. Never has anything like this happened to him. Sure, a little pang of sadness hit him once and a while when his family betrayed each other, when everyone except for certain people wished he was dead.. but nothing this intense snuck up on him so sudden, or at all for that matter.  
He could feel his heart pound against his ribs, shutting his eyes tight, he didn't want to see himself get like this. Thinking about his family out there, fallen, unable to be angels ever again, it tore him apart.. it was all his fault. Tightly gripping the edges of the sink, he pushed all his pressure down on it and it groaned in pain until his knuckles and fingertips turned white. All feeling has been lost in his hands; they started to tremble under the immense pressure. He felt like his head was about to burst open, his emotions were bouncing around too fast inside of his gut and his thoughts ricochet too fast in his head. Is this what being human was all about? Is this the pain and torture they had to go through each day of their life?

Soon his arms shook, then his knees buckled. He locked eyes with himself, trying to understand what was going on. Over and over in his head he questioned himself why he was acting like this, this was not at all like him. He shook his head, his forehead hurt and pulsed in pain.  
"You stop this right now," he commanded out loud with a shaky voice, "This is not acceptable."

A beckoning craving came from his body, what was that? It feels irritable.. un-nerving. Curling his fingers, he felt his nails scrape the porcelain sides of the sink. He remembered when this started out alright, all he was doing was examining his stubble, washing his hands.. he noticed again, he needs to shave.

Wild eyes shifted quickly over to the razor and he snatched it up and stared it down. Looking back at himself with disgust, he said, "You can't stop this.. you started it. YOU STARTED THIS!" He pressed the razor against his face and pulled it down roughly. Instantly, the hairs in the way of the razor disappeared and some spots stung. He stopped, surprised at the sudden pain, he saw blood seep out of a cut. Lowering the razor, he leaned towards the mirror slowly. "That really hurt.." he whispered.

Tears poured over the rim of his eyelids, "I need more of it.." the wanting ache surged through his whole body. Soon enough he was shoving his trench-coat off, ripping off his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt as quick as he could. His pale skin peeked through the white shirt, wanting it the most. Tossing it onto the floor, next to his trench-coat, he pushed them out of his way with his foot. Now he had no shirt on, nothing to shield his thin skin. He took the razor blade out and examined his chest's canvas. Angrily, the blade ran across his chest, sinking into the soft flesh, pouring out blood down his abdomen. Over and over it happened, it couldn't be stopped.. the wanting ache was too strong. His face contorted in pain and he threw the bloody blade at the mirror, blaming himself for everything. Blood speckled onto the mirror, he started to scream at the mirror.

Blood was smeared onto his hands and fingertips, and banging came from the locked bathroom door. "Cas! What's going on?!" It was Dean. Castiel forgotten too quickly that he wasn't alone in the hotel; somehow Dean and Sam had found him on the side of the road while traveling. It wasn't a pretty sight and neither was this. It was too late to be quiet now, he let out a scream and punched the mirror, square in his reflection's face. Shards went everywhere, it went into the sink and all over the floor, and into his fist. The pain was too much, the hard pieces of glass sunk into his skin and he cried out and gripped the edge of the sink with his good hand. Tears flooded his face and he screamed and screamed. He dropped to his knees while his hand and chest bled.

"CAS?!" Just like that Dean had kicked the door down. The whole white and pale yellow bathroom was smeared in blood and sprinkled with blood splatter.. and in the middle of the room was a delicate fallen angel on his knees, wanting the pain to stop. Liquids ran out of his nose and down to his lips, making his nose unable to breathe, he hissed in and out through his mouth. Dean yelled, "Castiel, what did you do!?" That's just it.. what did he do? He made a mess of not only the bathroom, but of his vessel. Castiel hung his head low and sobbed hysterically, wanting to tell Dean everything on his mind, but unable to.. being a human was too hard.


	2. During the Silence

He sat there on the edge of the twin sized bed, rubbing his sore hands on the musty hotel blanket spread out under him. Some black and white show was airing on the small TV, the woman laughed at a small mistake she did, her husband smiled and shook his head. Castiel's eyes stung, it could have been from all the crying, but it could be because the TV was set too close to the edge of the bed. Letting out a small sigh, he watched the woman and man embrace and exchange a kiss as the credits rolled and the audience applauded. If only real mistakes can be fixed that easily. He pried his eyes from the fading credits, looking over at the table in front of the window, which had dark curtains that barely touched the floor. There sat Sam with his laptop, it seemed all he did was research, or whatever he does on that thing. Cas sat there until Sam looked over back at him. But that didn't happen. He was too engrossed in his computer, every click he made the screen shoot different colours on his face. From white to black to red to yellow.. he was a very busy man.

Castiel looked away, bringing his attention to his hands, they had finally stopped shaking. His right hand was wrapped up in bandage by the boys after he had smashed it in the bathroom's mirror. Dean yelled at him and tried to talk some sense into his pain filled head, but all he could think about was how great bleeding and screaming it out was. All the troubles he had built up inside him since he was created had been released it seemed. Commercials rolled one right after another, filling the small motel room with booming spokes-persons and cautious yet persuasive doctors. Being a human was truly troubling, all this media fills your head and corrupts your thoughts of what you should buy, what you should be, and what you should do to try and fix yourself. Reaching for the TV remote, Castiel channel surfed, waiting for Dean to come back with their dinner from up the road. That was another thing that was unsettling about being a human, it seemed that all he wanted to do was eat.

Leaning forward and turning down the volume, the outside noises seeped in with sneaky silence. Cars past on the street just outside, laughs and chatter from afar could be heard. Castiel layed on his back, stretching out his arms above his head. The Moose looked beyond his laptop, furrowed his brows and frowned. Sam didn't know how to talk to Cas after what had happened with him in the bathroom, after seeing all of his blood spread out on the tile, sink, mirror, basically the whole room, it was enough to leave anyone speechless.  
"So, Castiel," started Sam, he shifted uncomfortably, looking at his laptop, and back at the fallen angel, "Are you feeling any better?"  
Cas turned his head to the side, facing him, "I suppose so," he said plainly. "Thank you for helping me clean up my wounds, Sam. I don't know what came over me." His eyes dropped down and he looked away.

Tenseness hung onto Sam's voice, "No, no, it's okay. Really.." Headlights shone behind the thick curtains as a loud engine roared outside of the room. Sam pulled a curtain back and peered out, "Dean's back." he announced, pushing the chair back and standing up.  
The car door outside had been slammed, Sam unlocked and opened the door for Dean. He was carrying a big brown paper bag, keys jangled in his hand as he walked in, setting down the bag and keys. Castiel sat up slowly, watching him take out Chinese food in many form of containers.

Sam closed the door and locked it, "I thought I told you to get something healthy."

"I got orange chicken. What more do you want?" Dean retorted, "Nothing's more healthy than protein.. Oh! I also got you Spring Rolls. They're full of green veggies and things of that sort."

He rolled up the brown paper bag after emptying it and threw it at Cas playfully, "You ready to eat, Cas?"  
The paper bag hit his head and he flinched, it bounced off onto the floor. Sam gave his brother a harsh look, "Dean." he hissed under his breath.

Castiel sighed; he got up and picked the bag up and headed over to the boys. "Yes, I'm ready to eat, Dean."

Dean smirked, telling Cas what he had gotten him. Castiel has never heard these names for food before, but he was willing to try them. He was given Chow Mein in a small take out box with chop sticks. "They didn't have any forks or spoons, so have fun figuring out how to use these."

As Sam and Dean took the only available chairs at the table and began eat, Cas sat back down on the bed, fumbling with the chop sticks. He tried to first wrap the noodles around them, then he tried stabbing them, but soon enough he just resorted to scooping it up with the two sticks, bringing his face to the food, shoveling it in his mouth. The television was left on the science channel, a show on how Earth came to exist was on, dozens of scientists gave their 2 cents on how and why we came to be. Castiel sneered remarks to the TV, correcting them on most of the "facts" they came up with. He was there when God made everything after all.

"He's looking kind of better," Dean mumbled to Sam, "Did he say anything to you while I was out?"

Sam shook his head, "Not really. He's just been quiet most of the time." he said low. "He's just been sitting there watching TV. Every once and a while he'd lay down and then sit back up when something peeks his interest on there."

Dean started to eat and he looked over at Cas, he was hunched over, staring at the "mindless" scientists babbling on about theories and evidence they've uncovered throughout the years. He didn't understand how he could watch things like that and tolerate it as much as he did, even though it really wasn't much tolerance, but he still was sitting through it.

With an enlightened look, Dean turned to Sam, "I think we should take him out tonight. What do you think?" Raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

The youngest brother sighed, "Dean.. we're not taking him to a strip club. Things like this need to be talked out. But, I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Dean sighed, putting his food down, "Fine. You want me to talk to him? I'll go talk to him." He hesitated, but he finally gave up eating to talk about feelings with Castiel.

The show faded out into a commercial with more irresistible Saturday sales. Cas broke his concentration to look down at his food, his chop sticks almost scraped the bottom of the cardboard takeout box. Within 3 minutes or less, he had eaten almost all of his food. Dean had made his way towards him, plopping down on the edge of the bed, sitting with him. At first he didn't know what to say to the calorie hungry guy, he just sat there watching TV with his hands folded together in between his legs. Cas sat there staring at the small remainder of noodles and then spoke up.

"You don't have to talk to me, Dean."

That caught both of the brothers off guard, breaking their focus from the electronics onto him. How did Cas even hear them? They were practically across the other side of the room.

"Well," Dean cleared his throat, "I want to, Cas. So.. tell me, what's been bothering you?"

"What's been bothering me?" he looked up at Dean as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I coated that bathroom in my own blood and all you can ask me is what's been bothering me?"

He had a sour look on his face, like he was offended, "That is what I asked you, wasn't it?" Sam put his food down, getting up to intervene. He could see this was not going to end up anywhere good.

Castiel laughed, he really couldn't believe this. Giving a sigh and focusing back on his noodles, his face went back to being neutral. "Why don't you just leave Sam to the talking and we can go out to watch half naked females dance for your pleasure later?"

Dean gave a heavy sigh, shaking his head and looking away, "Look," he turned back to him, "I want to help you, Cas. So stop being such a dumbass and tell me what's going on inside of that head of yours."

"Ah, yes. Sorry for being such a dumbass, Dean. I forgot that has a horrible affect on you." he gave Dean a dirty look out of the corner of his eye.

"Alright, guys, stop it-" Sam interrupted, but he was cut off by his brother's booming voice.

He stuck his index finger out firmly at Castiel, trying to get his point across, "I am trying to help, damnit. So, wipe that look off of your face and maybe this will end peacefully for you."

Cas' eyes narrowed and his eyebrows drew close, "..Is that a threat?"

"No, it's not a threat at all," Dean's voice got harsh, "It's a promise. If you don't tell us what's going on, you'll get even worse and possibly even kill yourself or someone else. We don't want that, you're our only family and we want to help you overcome whatever is mentally going on with you. I don't want to see you spiral into depression, cutting, violence, or anything like that." Pain grew in his voice and his eyes were misty, "I want to finally see you have a good life. Now that your 'family' upstairs has no way in harming you, you have a chance to live your life to the fullest without worrying about what they'll say or what they'll do to you. Now tell us what's going on or else this will end up way worse than it already is."

All Castiel could do was sit there, staring at his take out box again. Seeing Dean crying always hit him where it hurt the most. His jaw got stiff as his throat got tight, he didn't want to tell Dean or Sam what was going on with him.. he didn't want to bother them with his stupid troubles. They had problems of their own, why would they want to hear about his thoughts and worries? Is this what family was really about, telling each other every thought that crosses your mind? If so.. Castiel didn't want to be part of that kind of family.


End file.
